


raise up (and dance with me)

by CloudCover (RainyForecast)



Series: king of my own land [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Adoption, Domestic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/CloudCover
Summary: Sid has, well, premonitions, when he hears one of Zhenya's media obligations is another orphanage visit.This is a timestamp forking of my own land, and it makes a bit more sense if you've read that first.





	

The first summer they spend in Moscow, Yulia is four. Big enough, Sid feels, for the hassle of transcontinental travel. They spend a little time traveling, lying in the sun along the Black Sea and visiting Zhenya’s parents in Magnitogorsk. But they spend most of their time in Moscow, as Zhenya’s– their apartment is there. And Zhenya has a few media and charity obligations to fulfill.

Sid has, well, premonitions when he hears one of them is another orphanage visit. He would have gone along as emotional support but Yulia catches a little summer cold and he stays home to take care of her. No matter how capable a nanny may be, when Yulia’s under the weather Sid prefers to care for her himself if at all possible.

She’s feverish and fretful all afternoon, and Sid resorts to pacing around the house with her in his arms, thin little arms clutching his neck. She’s maybe a little big to be doing this, but well, his baby is sick, and what use is a pro athlete’s musculature if he doesn’t use it for this?  By the time Zhenya comes home she’s finally passed out, and Sid’s slumped on the couch. Yulia’s limpet-like grip has loosened in sleep, and while her sweat-damp curls still stick to her temples, Sid thinks her fever’s gone down.

Zhenya stops short in the doorway to the living room, and just looks at them. His eyes look red. He pads over, and leans over to rest one hand on Sid’s hair and gentle stroke Yulia’s head with the other.

“ _I love you both so much_ ,” he says in Russian, and he sounds choked up. Sid tugs him down to kiss his cheek and Zhenya folds himself into a sitting position on the floor. He leans into Sid, and Sid runs his hand through Zhenya’s hair.

“You want to talk about it?” Sid asks. He knows better than to ask if Zhenya’s okay. Zhenya is silent for a moment.

“Always hard. Want— want them all to be happy. Can’t adopt all.” He huffs a  rueful laugh. “But today—little girl. Special. So sweet. Two years old. Something wrong with feet, maybe she doesn’t walk. No money for special doctors.” As if Zhenya hasn’t probably donated enough money to take the entire orphanage to the best orthopedic surgeons in Moscow by now. “I give money for this, but-” there it is, Sid thinks fondly. His generous hearted husband. “She there since baby. No one—no one want her.”

Sid feels the words and the tone like a blow. He hears Zhenya sniffle, and knows his eyes are probably wet with tears. Sid tightens his arms around their daughter, and just, _knows_. “Show me a picture,” he says, knowing Zhenya probably has a dozen on his phone. Zhenya fishes his phone out of his pocket, chooses a photo, and hands the phone to Sid.

Someone else must have taken the photo. Zhenya’s in it, holding a little girl carefully in his arms and— Sid’s breath catches at how Zhenya’s looking at her. She’s looking up at him, and Sid can see she has big brown eyes, nearly as dark as Yulia’s. But instead of dark curly hair, her’s is light and impossibly fine. Strands are sliding out of a hastily clipped hair bow, and Sid’s feeling of rightness intensifies when he realizes he want to reclip her bangs out of her eyes. She also has one little hand clutched in Zhenya’s shirt. Sid carefully hands the phone back to Zhenya.

“What’s her name?”

“Ana. Anushka,” Zhenya says, and flips through some more photos, and it looks like Zhenya carried Ana around for most of his visit.

“Okay,” Sid says.

Zhenya cranes his head back to look at Sid. “What, okay?”

“Take me there tomorrow. I want to meet her.”

“ _Sid_ ,” Zhenya breathes, pivoting to face Sid, expression lit up from within.

“It feels right,” Sid says, unable to stop a smile mirroring Zhenya’s from spreading across his face. 

And it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Tumblr prompt fill and is un-beta'd. 
> 
> Title is from M83's "Outro."
> 
> You can find me as [creaturesofnarrative ](http://creaturesofnarrative.tumblr.com/) (main) and [knifeshoeoreofight](http://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com/) (hockey sideblog) on Tumblr, and as RainyForecast on Twitter. Come say hi and cry with me about how hockey both real and fictional has eaten our lives.


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